I know I don’t.
I am intelligent, articulate and looking better now that I am losing weight and tanned (thanks to living in my car).
I find enough time and focus to do this blog most days, even when (like today) my upper body hurts so much I squeam in my car seat, I have a headache from the bleach smell at the post office, I am depressed because I lost my phone service and therefore can not earn any money until this weekend’s sale, and a person I’d been hoping to visit went incommunicado four days ago.
I’m parked at a wifi spot and rain starts plopping down. I close the windows tight. Within minutes or moments I am overheating along with my dogs who are panting in the back, even thought it’s only 73 degrees Fahrenheit outside. (That doesn’t matter if the cool air can’t get into the car.) I throw open the door when I must get a breath of fresh air, grateful the rain has slowed.
Then a diesel truck fires up next to me. Because I’m spacey I don’t react as quickly as normal; I don’t slam the door until I’ve already gotten a couple lung fulls of fumes. Which add to my headache. But it’s raining again so I have to shut up the car while the fumes are still in it, or rain will dampen my sleeping area and laundry and the dog’s back seat.
Ah, the blog software has put a red squiggly line under “squeam,” above. “I squeam in my car,” I say out loud. “That’s right. Does it have a c?” Oh. Wrong word. Not a word. “Squirm.”
PLEASE read “The Spoon Theory” if you seek to further your understanding of the lives of people with “invisible” disabilities and illnesses. My best friend read it after knowing me for years — i.e. she knew a LOT about my health problems — and even she raved afterwards about how much it helped her understand what it takes for me to get through a day.
That’s what the article looks at: What it takes for people like me to get through a day. The writer’s diagnoses are different than mine, but Spoon Theory applies 100% to me and people with many other not-obvious conditions. Find it on ButYouDontLookSick.com.